


and the nights were as dark as my baby (half as beautiful too)

by redexray



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F, Mention of Underage Sex, POV Second Person, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-01-26 11:10:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21373195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redexray/pseuds/redexray
Summary: When you first saw her you were the silent child in a deafening family, the promising second-born in a house full of achievements and pride, of rich gold and bright red forniture you learned to admire since you came to the world with a weak cry and silver eyes.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Leliana (Dragon Age), Leliana/Female Trevelyan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47





	and the nights were as dark as my baby (half as beautiful too)

When you first saw her you were the silent child in a deafening family, the promising second-born in a house full of achievements and pride, of rich gold and bright red forniture you learned to admire since you came to the world with a weak cry and silver eyes.

Your letter came as no surprise to anyone but your parents acted precisely like it was. There was a big celebration, of course, like there had been for your brother when his Hogwarts acceptance arrived as well two years prior. It felt odd for an eleven years old such as yourself to be cheered for something you were born with, to be clapped and hugged for what was merely in your blood, but you didn’t complain when a Firebolt was given in your hands with a wink from your dad and you didn’t think about blood anymore when you and Maxwell played Quidditch untill the sun had set under the pitch ground. 

You didn’t cry when you took the Hogwarts Express, nor did your parents, who just hugged you and your brother tight, the unspoken demand of receiving at least one letter from the both of you in their eyes as the smoke from the train pipes engulfed them.

You didn’t feel scared when you arrived and Maxwell gave you a wink before joining his friends in a carriage or when McGonagall recited the list of the new first year students holding out a battered hat in the Grand Hall. You didn’t feel scared when she spoke your name and a lot of heads piqued up in interest, looking you from head to toe as you took your seat before them with your hands folded in your lap. You stole a glance toward the Gryffindor table and a smirking Maxwell gave you a nod before the Sorting Hat covered your view.

“Aah, another Trevelyan. Let’s see...A lot of ambition, like all the others in your family... so much cleverness too.” It said, pensive. There was silence then, the minutes beginning to tickle by and a quiet whispering resonating in the marble walls.

_It is not hard to place me, Hat_ you thought restlessly, your palms getting sweaty in their hold.

“Is it not? You have a complex mind child. There is bravery, yes, but not recklessness. There is determination, lots of it, and a quick wit. I wonder if... Would you truly have a place in Gryffindor?” He asked in an almost curious way.

_It’s all I’ve ever know_ you stated.

“But it may be where you don’t belong. Yes... Yes! There it is!” You frowned, confused, almost asking to be placed in the lions House like all the others Trevelyans wizards and be done with it.

“SLYTHERIN!” The Sorting Hat shouted instead.

There was silence, or maybe not, you couldn’t be sure because the only thing you heard was your heart, the pumping of blood in your ears. McGonagall took the hat out of your head with a curious glint in her feline eyes. You shallowed, though the lump rising in your throat didn’t leave, and stood up, daring to look at your brother table. You saw his surprise before he started clapping, although still confused. His applause was the only one that mattered in the room in that moment. He smiled, you tried to, and you went toward the Slytherin table on wobbly legs. You almost thought it as a joke, one where the Sorting Hat would call back for you and place you in Gryffindor while laughing at your pranked self. Maxwell would laugh too, saying it was his idea like always, and you would shove him before chuckling along and seating beside him like at home. But the Hat didn’t call back for you, nor did Maxwell, and the reality settled in like a punch to the chest. You were iper aware of the looks shoot in your direction, the pointing. The back of your head started to tingle with all the whispers you could hear.

You missed the rest of the ceremony and the Headmistress speech as you swam in your thoughts about the situation, and when the food appeared you didn’t feel like eating peas and potatoes while your stomach was fighting with itself in fear: for your family, for your House, for yourself in the next seven years. You looked away from the spot you had been focusing on for the past twenty minutes or so before glancing around the table. The whispering has ceased, the staring not so much, but you stopped to look at a girl with hair like copper a few seats away. She looked slightly older, maybe the age of Maxwell or so, but carried herself with far more poise and elegance in her spine than your brother. She talked to her friend with a cocked eyebrow while swirling the liquid in her glass unconsciously. You stared and drank her in for whatever reason, curious and slightly fascinated, watching how the candles from above made her hair shine like a soft halo every time she moved. You thought about sirens and veelas and every other beautiful creature your mother used to tell you stories about, but when she looked at you back for a few seconds with her blue eyes you definitely thought about angels.

Where your parents were absolutely shocked about your sorting, Maxwell was not. He told you with a smile that you were always the clever one between the two of you, and the sincerity in his eyes made you laugh and tear up at the same time.

That year, when you came home for Christmas, your house had a bit more silver and green around and you didn’t feel scared anymore.

When you spoke to her you were the bright second year with a disposition for Potion and the snake who somehow always had her hands smuggled with ink.

You knew she was the Slytherin Seeker from the first match you saw the year before, her elegance showing even when flying, catching the Golden Snitch in a blur of green robes ever so often in all the season games to piss Maxwell off. You asked about her to your brother during summer after your shoulders began to ache from practice and the sun was turning orange on the hot horizon.

“She’s cool, I guess. A bit of a bitch when she’s with Majorlaine though.” He had responded with ease when you were placing back the balls. You had kept asking questions. He had responded to most of them. 

“Got a crush little sis’?” He smirked.

You had smacked the back of his sweaty head with the Quaffle and that conversation ended with the both of you throwing mud at each other. 

On September you stood up for the vacant position of Chaser for your House team. It was raining and your protective glasses kept clouding from time to time, but you saw her vividly as co-captain on the left of Justinia’s side, her hand gripping a black Firebolt and her hair up in a short bun. When wet, her copper resembled bronze. You were the last on their list of triers, but swift and precise, and the first who made it to the team in the end. She looked at you after saying your surname with her blue eyes and you felt your cheeks get hot even through  the cold rain.

“Welcome to the team, Evelyn. I am Leliana.” She offered a gloved hand. You thought about how beautiful your name sounded when spoken with her velvety voice.

“A pleasure, Leliana.” You shook her hand, finding your voice and pondering how easily and smoothly her name rolled out your tongue.

When you caught her you were the third year Chaser with the most scored point in a season and the girl who finally grew into her big nose during summer.

You were walking around the empty halls of the castle at supper time on a weekend evening. Your mind ran lazy circles about the Potion assignment you were due to deliver on Monday morning and your closed off stomach that kept worrying Maxwell and your parents even though you felt fine. There were no braces on the wall, but the winter moon that shone trough the tall windows illuminated your path just enough so you didn’t have to take your wand out. You passed a closed door and heard a whisper, a husky chuckle, something falling lightly on the floor and you stopped mid step, the damned curiosity that your brother instilled in you sparkling through your thoughts. The door wasn’t locked, which actually wasn’t surprising considering the fact that not a soul beside yourself had seemed to walk that corridor in a long time. You opened the entry slowly and without a noise, barely enough to sneak your head inside the room. It was an old classroom with a few object covered in white rags, bathing in the dusty air which was filled with gasps and little hushs. There were two girls displayed on a old desk, kissing each other mouth, throats, cheeks and groping their still clothed bodies. You saw copper hair being lightly tugged back and green and silver ties pulled with fervor and hunger, a smirking Majorlaine pulling Leliana’s head down and down until the other’s mouth reached her skirt and again gasps and quiet moans. You stopped watching and bolted back, closing the door with maybe too much force than needed because you heard the fumble of hastily put on clothes and the squeaking of old wood when you started to walk back on your steps. You felt shame for whatever reason, your cheeks getting hotter and hotter and your stomach clenching and unclenching with the same rhythm of your wild heart, that seemed to just bleed and not push blood anymore. But there were frantic steps following you when you arrived at the end of the hallway. You slowed down just enough to make them reach you. Turning around, Leliana was there, panting and looking at you with eyes more blown wide that you ever saw. Her hair were a mess, just like her clothes and her lips, but there was still elegance in her, a kind of royalty that you could have just been born with.

“I didn’t see anything.” You started, still looking at her.

“Yes, you have.” She responded, and for a fraction of moment there was a defeating look in her eyes before they turned into stone. You watched as she transformed into the cold and calculating girl everyone feared, a war goddess ready to strike you down with her intelligence.

You were so smitten.

“I won’t tell a soul.” You said before she even spoke, not for fear but for understanding, your head raised and your shoulder squared with honesty. She studied you for a brief moment, and even though her eyes were scanning your face with deathly precision, you didn’t feel any discomfort. 

“Do you promise me?” She asked, the childish question spoken so gravely that it seemed like she was giving her life to you. You watched the ethereal glow her skin received from the moon and her shining hair, copper mixing with brass in that light. You took a step toward her and fixed her cramped tie, focusing on her breathing under your hands for a moment. 

She smelled of lilies. 

“I promise.” You said before walking back and taking a staircase. She didn’t follow you, and neither of you talked about that episode anymore. You came to learn that she trusted you for one simple reason: Slytherins always keep their promises.

When you comforted her you were the lovesick fourth year who planted flowers in her backward at home during a warm summer day. Maxwell had glanced at you strangely, perched in the hammock that was a few feet away. He had asked if you had taken an interest in Herbology, swinging back and forth in the soft breeze. You had merely said that you liked the smell of lilies as the shadows of the oaks shielded you from the sun.

You entered in the Slughorn club that year, your age the only thing that had kept you from joining his shelves of photographs before. Another member, Dorian Pavus, a Ravenclaw who you had Charms with, came to you a week before the infamous party with the offer to be his date.

“You are not my type.” You responded, still focused on your book.

“You are not mine as well.” He said, sitting before you on the library table. “But all these people are boring and you are, surprisingly, not.” You looked at him. “Think about it.”

You found yourself waiting outside the Ravenclaw common room with a too tight dress and a pair of heels the week after. He emerged half and hour later with a black suit and gold lined eyes. You called him handsome and he did too before you went to the Slughorn party smirking, marching arm in arm. There was Maxwell as well with a Hufflepuff girl by his side and Majorlaine leaning toward another Slytherin pureblood, but there was no sign of Leliana. It was an awfully boring and strict party, but you expected no less from it, and you were taught the proper way of behaving by your mother. She wouldn’t have approved about your silent drinking contest with Dorian though. The both of you left the party respectably tipsy on fuzzy drinks, and you brought your date back to his common room. He mumbled a few phases while leaning on your shoulder for support, saying you were the perfect date but that sadly you didn’t have a dick. You kissed his rosy cheek goodnight and watched as he stumbled toward his house entrance with a smile.

There wasn’t anyone around when you took off your shoes and walked around for a bit, your feet thanking you from the cold ground, the uncomfortable pressure of that stupid dress entirely forgotten. You took the route toward the Astronomy Tower, hoping the sky was clear enough to see the stars Firenze talked about in his last lesson before the soft chips of some birds reached your ears. You followed the sound and found a small alcove with an opening that showed the night sky. Three little birds were flying and singing above a figure leaned against the wall.

“Good evening, Leliana.” You greeted, walking slowly toward her. She was dressed in a green gown that was cut low, showing her delicate back which straitened up at hearing your voice. Ever so regal.

The chipping of the birds grew louder. 

“I must really be bad at hiding if you always manage to find me.” She said, still looking out the window. You came to rest along the opening too.

“I always loved playing hide and seek as a child.” You responded easily while glancing at her. Her blue eyes were shining and a letter was discarded on the windowsill along with her wand, all the air giving you a very strange feeling of fatality. 

“Fascinating birds.” You whispered, taking away your attention from her to focus on the volatiles. They were small and red, their feather catching the lustre of the stars.

“A Transfiguration project.” She whispered back, not really paying attention to their chipping or your frowning. The bird stopped singing and came to rest near your hand. You watched as they transformed back into round stones, leaving behind a sharp silence. 

“Would you like me to leave?” You asked, neutral. She shook her head, her hair capturing the light like the birds feathers. You both stayed quiet, watching the sky and swaying in the occasional breeze that moved the skirt of your dresses. It felt like hours later when she spoke again.

“Majorlaine is engaged.” She said, looking at the letter before her. Your surprise didn’t seem to bother her.

“Can’t she break off the marriage?” You asked. She looked at you like a mother when her child asked a silly question.

“She suggested it.” She responded, her eyes flashing. You closed your mouth as she sighed.

“I never really thought about losing her. We sticked together since we were toddler. I saw her as my friend, my mentor, my lover. I hoped...” She gripped the letter hard enough to crack the paper before releasing it with a broken suspire.

“But it doesn’t really matter now, does it?” She whispered. “It was just a game. My fault was in believing that it was anything else.” She pushed the parchment off the window and you both watch it fall slowly and float away in the wind.

“It’s her fault, not yours. For deceiving you like this.” You said, collected. She laughed, a bitter sound so out of place that made you flinch.

“Evelyn, I started it.” She chuckled ruefully, the same knowing expression as before. You already hated it.

“And she never stopped you.” You responded back.

Her eyes glinted like the brightest of stars and two tears escaped them. You dared to catch one before it fell on the floor, the sudden action startling more you than her.

“I hope that you will see beyond your pain, Leliana.” You stroked her tear between your fingertips until it dissipated as her eyes didn’t leave the sky for a second.

“Just take your time.” You softly touched her elbow, barely grazing it in the hope to not intrude too much. “But remember that no one deserves your sorrow.”

Her skin was so cold to the touch and yet you felt so warm as you held her arm and gaze. She stared at you and at your hand with an unreadable expression. A silent moment passed where everything remained still, the air, her breath, your pulse.

Then, she exhaled.

Everything began to move again.

“Merlin, I must be a sight right now.” She said, wiping her tears with the back of her hands, make-up smuggled eyes and red nose.

You fell in love even more.

“You look terrible.” You said smirking, removing your hand from her arm. 

“I bet.” She laughed quietly, a fresh sound that hit your lungs.

You both gazed at the sky until the break of dawn, the half-moon pinned between the clouds keeping you company as a distant friend, a silent keeper of her tears and an endless warden of your affection.

When you told her you were the tall fifth year with the graduating hazel-eyed brother and the sweet bruises of love hidden in your heart.

It was near Christmas break and you were playing in a snow fight with Maxwell and the both of your friends. He had started it, saying that it would be the last time you two could do it together at Hogwarts. You said that they would had probably flunk him that year and he had laughed before throwing a snowball at you. The fight stopped when she crossed the ground, everyone silent and still as the Head Girl approached you with slow steps. You could see right under her poised facade, the mirth in her blue eyes unmistakable. She stared at you and asked if you needed a hand. Maxwell threw a snowball at her head and everyone moved again. You worked together, exchanging snowball after snowball with cold hands and following the strategy you usually used for Quidditch, laughing and smiling all along. There wasn’t a winner, it was a snow fight after all, but as you saw your brother drenched from head to toe in melted snow you were pretty certain that you should have been the one celebrating. The others then dispersed, but Leliana stayed. Dorian and Maxwell shot you the same smirk before disappearing inside the castle and you almost flipped them off if it wasn’t for the girl in front of you. There were white flakes in her hair and her cheeks were rosy from the cold. She looked younger, more careless, like a fairy came to whisk you away.

“Walk with me?” She asked, already moving, and you couldn’t do anything except follow her. You navigated the castle with no destination in mind, strolling in the same halls a few times and talking about anything and everything. She taught you how to walk without making a sound and you taught her how to whistle with just her thumb and forefinger. She learned not to ask about your future plans and you learned not to bring up her mother. She told you about ten years worth of ballet and etiquette classes, the discipline and control they required and how frustrating it was, to have secrets and boundaries controlling her life. You told her about Maxwell and your family, how you felt overpowered by the shadow of your beloved brother and how your parents still looked at you with a concealed sadness in their eyes every time you wore your green and silver scarf at home. By the time you stopped the sun was setting and you both stared at it from the same alcove of the year before.

“I can’t believe this is my last year.” She said, the pale glow of the sun making her skin shine. 

“Any regrets?” You asked, watching the snowflakes melting on your warm hands.

“Lots. I feel like falling in love with the wrong person is the worst though.” She responded, seating on the windowsill in a delicate manner, and you almost cried at how relatable her answer was. You chuckled instead and she looked at you pensive.

“Not being your friend before this year is also one of my biggest regrets.” She stated with honesty and her eyes held an apologizing edge to them. “If it weren’t for you I don’t know where I would be.”

You stood straight. She looked so magnificent in the dusk, like she did in the moonlight and in the morning light and in every season, every day you saw her.

“Leliana, I love you.” You told her with a courage you didn’t know you could muster. 

“I do too.” She smiled. “Come now, I want to show you my favorite secret passage.” 

Her hand grabbed yours.

You thought about peace and quiet, the snaps of thunders, spring soft kisses and winter sharp bites, lilies scented letters, the joy of victory and the consistency of pain. 

She didn’t understand but it didn’t matter.

You had enough love for the both of you.

When you fought with her you were the six year girl who stopped playing Quidditch and scored Outstanding in all her classes. You told everyone that since Maxwell had entered in the Falmouth Falcons that autumn your family didn’t need two jocks under its roof. Only Dorian knew that you quitted because you missed the way Leliana flew above your head. You wrote, of course, and read avidly every page she sent back, but after a summer spent together her letters started to came slower.

Her grey owl stopped showing in November.

At the start of December, you asked her if she would have liked to meet for the holidays. Her response never arrived. You spent New Year’s Eve perched on the balcony of Maxwell’s flat in London, drinking eggnog and watching the Weasleys’ fireworks flashing in the sky. 

You hid her letters at the bottom of your trunk on the first week of February, returning from a Slughorn class where he had showed a freshly made batch and the perfume of lilies seeped inside your nose like a venomous snake.

There wasn’t really any anger in you, just a penetrating pining. You thought that such was life, sometimes people grew apart and slipped trough your fingers like sand and you couldn’t do anything to prevent it, even if it still hurt.

Dorian dragged you to Hogsmade after the snow started to melt. He made you laugh, splashing your face with the drops he gathered on the wet grass and whispering bad puns while walking trough the streets. You thanked him for being a good friend behind a butter-beer. He shrugged, saying that at least one of you two needed to be perfect. You cheered on that. 

When you returned home for the Easter holidays Maxwell asked what was wrong. You told him you were in love as you watched a Snitch flying near the roof of Quality Quidditch Supplies. He said you looked too much like shit for being in love while trying a new broom. You couldn’t really argue with that.

Later, as you exited the shop, the streets were packed with grinning children and warm-eyed parents. A hooded figure passed you a few feet away while trying to avoid most of the crowd, and the faint smell of white flowers reached your nose in a pinching breeze. You stopped, your mind pondering the scarse chances of hope, and glanced back at the woman who was walking away with unmistakable elegance, her form already distant when you excused yourself to Maxwell and followed her. She was fast and didn’t bump into a lot of people like you did, but you managed to keep up until she strode in an dark alley. The smell of lillies became your only companion besides the squeaking of your shoes as she seemed to vanish after your enter. You took a turn to the left, still confused at her disappearance, and then there were hands grabbing your shirt, backing you hard against a wall while the dulled point of a wand poked your neck. She saw your face and you could finally see hers too, the surprise on her blue eyes and her slightly parted lips in shock. Your traitor heart flipped at her beauty like always.

“I just have a question.” You said as her breath grazed your chin. She released your shirt and lowered her wand, taking a step back with her eyes still wide open. You gripped one of her wrists and in doing so stopped her from making any more room between the two of you.

“Was I ever so expendable for you to leave without even a fucking explanation?” You asked calmly, your voice never faltering.

She shook off the stupor and her expression hardened significantly before you, a mask you weren’t familiar with setting in place.

“Do you remember what I wrote you on my last letter?” She asked, glancing at your hand with a strange look.

“You told me you had started to work for the Ministry.” You responded with furrowed brows. She slowly nodded and somehow relaxed, but met your gaze with a darkness in her eyes that anchored to the spot.

“I work at the Department of Mysteries.” She stated, her voice as solid as yours, an uncanny edge to her tone.

“That doesn’t excuse you for ignoring me.” You said seriously and her gaze faltered for a moment. She exhaled a long breath, her shoulders straightening as a reflex when her cold facade cracked, and you recognized the girl you saw the summer before who wore loose dresses and collected freckle after freckle under the sun.

“There are people, hideous people, who want to know what I know and would use any mean to make me talk.” She whispered, and you could feel her hand slowly turning to held yours in a gentle hold, almost cradling it like something that could easily fly away at the first sudden movement. “Including harming the few who I am fond of.”

You focused on the shadows under her eyes, on how the sharpness of her cheekbones seemed to cut trough the skin of her face and how the tension in her body was ready to snap her spine as easily as a twig.

“Why working there then. You once told me you hated secrets.” You asked, a bit less confused and a lot more worried. She stared back at you with the same expression she held every time you didn’t understand something. You still hated it.

“Yes.” She smiled, but it almost felt like a bitter sweet ending in that moment. “I am very good at keeping them though.”

You sighed.

“Leliana, I am not a clueless idiot. I know how to defend myself.” You said exasperated, pinching the bridge of your nose. She started to respond back, saying you couldn’t understand how that world worked, but you interrupted her speech when taking a step forward.

“I’ll learn to be even better if it means I’ll get to see you.” You whispered, almost as revealing a secret that you were afraid of. 

She looked up at you, your few inches on her giving you the advantage for once. Your closeness revealed how her eyes had a small ring of brown around the pupils, a detail you never had the chance to notice before but loved nonetheless.

“I don’t want to put you under unnecessary risks.” She whispered back and there was something that flickered in her gaze, a blue spark that begged to be unleashed and burn until exhausted. It ignited and froze your body in the same instant. 

“And I don’t want to wait another casual chance to see you again.” You said, watching how your breaths barely moved the hair on her forehead. She crossed her arms and looked away, a strand of copper escaping from under her hood. Your fingers itched to place it back just to feel again the warmth of her skin against yours.

“Evelyn, you can’t really understand.” She stated firmly, taking a step away from you, and it felt like that phrase settled into stone, unremovable and final. The glimmer in her eyes cleared out and you were left behind to gasp for something that didn’t exist.

“No,  you can’t really understand how much you fucked me up with all of this.” Your voice started to waver. You cleared your throat and set your jaw so hard that your back teeth hurt. “I thought that we were friends.”

She still refused to look at you and the silence that followed your phrase didn’t leave much room for interpretation in your mind. You didn’t say a word while walking back to exit that alley, and neither did she as the soft popping of an apparition boomed in your ears like a bullet.

When you returned at Hogwarts two weeks later, a black owl deposited a letter before your orange juice on Sunday morning. There wasn’t anything written on the envelope except for your name, a calligraphy you hadn’t seen in a long time looking at you expectantly. You continued to eat and didn’t read what was inside.

In all the weeks after a letter arrived every Sunday. Sometimes they were light, sometimes heavy, but all were delivered by a different owl. You stored them besides the old ones hidden in your trunk and waited.

She never missed a Sunday.

You read each page she wrote on the last day of school, seated alone in a wagon of the Hogwarts Express. She talked about the changing weather and her new shoes, the spells she learned and the meals she burned, the scars she started to collect and the way her stomach still ached for one, the cat that kept coming to her window for food and the angry way her owl looked at her for not letting deliver the letters she wrote you, how she missed the liberty of flying in the air without a care in the world and how she missed the simple ways you made her smile.

When you arrived home that afternoon you found her drinking tea with your mother in the backyard.

“I like her.” Your mother whispered knowingly in your ear while you two hugged. You held on tighter.

There was an awkward silence after your parent went inside to make more tea. She ran her hand trough her hair, a tick born out of nervousness that had always emerged before any Quidditch match, and the setting sun shone brighter on her head. You watched as the hot rays embraced her form from behind in a tender light, your mind still fascinated at her allure like all those years ago.

“Should I leave?” She asked with an uncertain softness that you never heard before. You realized that maybe,  _ maybe _ , she showed that part of her when only you were around. You fetched a pair of brooms from your outside cabinet, her blue gaze following you in every step.

“If you win this race you can stay for dinner.” You said, throwing a Firebolt toward her. She caught it with steady hands and an unspoken apology ran trough her eyes.

In hindsight, you knew back from the start that she would have won the competition. 

When she finally understood you were the seventh year who still didn’t had a clue about her future. There were so many options and letters arriving from everywhere, people you didn’t know that cited your abilities or underlined your wealthy name, and you couldn’t decide a single application in all the last months you spent at Hogwarts. You wanted to achieve greatness for your skills and work without relying on your surname, but you didn’t know in which camp yet. Dorian said you could just pick one blindly and go along with that. As you were seated in the Great Hall while the Headmistress made a speech about all the graduating students, you almost considered his joke as the solution.

You didn’t stay behind for dinner. When you exit the giant doors Dorian’s hand found your shoulder. He asked if he could escape with you with a smirk that reached his eyes. You grabbed his hand and brought him along while grinning.

You walked in every place you could think of, from old classrooms to dusty secret passages, talking fondly about good memories and reminiscing quietly the bad ones, resting in the peaceful air of the Astronomy Tower when your feet started to hurt.

“I’ll miss this place.” You said, watching how the lights of the castle reflected on the Black Lake surface like a hundred of constellations.

“I’ll do too.” Dorian responded with hooded eyes before bumping his shoulders with yours. “We could always teach. Potions with Professor Trevelyan and Charms with Professor Pavus.”

You looked at each other, a serious spark passing between your gazes while you pondered the idea, before laughing out loud a moment later.

“You would be terrible.” You said, linking your arm with his. He patted your hand.

“You would be too.” He smiled and you rested your head on his shoulder.

The day after you said goodbye to the home who sheltered you for the past seven years with a tons of job proposals in your trunk but still no decision made in mind.

A soirée was thrown to celebrate the graduations when the rest of the younger students took the train back to London. The families arrived with the carriages from Hogsmade in a myriads of cloaks and pretty dresses and nice suits. Your relatives wore red, of course, but they paired it with little silver thinks like your father’s tie or your mother’s earrings or even Maxwell rings, and their smile shone brighter than yours when you hugged them tightly. After that, McGonagall started to call beside her all the students, one by one like on their first day as soon to be Gryffindors, Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. Each head of House gave the diplomas to their own scholars with proud smiles and then clapped as the senior casted his or her Patronus, as per tradition. When your turn came Slughorn beamed at you with joy in his eyes. You shook his hand with the same expression before taking out your wand and gazing toward your family.

Your hold faltered for a second.

Standing there, next to a smirking Maxwell, was Leliana, holding a glass in her hand and tilting it in your direction with a genuine smile as the air around you seemed to still. There wasn’t a choice, a second plan, the disclosure of your love was inevitable and indefensible, and you realized that there was no going back after. A defeated sigh escaped your lips.

You concentrated on the day your brother taught you how to fly, the smile on his face as he talked about Quidditch and the wariness you needed to be a Beater, the precision you required to be a Chaser, the attention you must had to be a Keeper, the swiftness you just inherited to be a Seeker. You thought about the wonder you felt when you saw all those qualities in one person, on the pitch and out, wearing them so casually on her freckled skin like a glove.

A silver lynx came out of your wand an instant later, swaying carelessly at your feet in all its glory and elegance. Everyone clapped, but Maxwell eyebrows shot up to the ceiling as he looked frantically between you and Leliana.

Leliana, who just stood there, a glass halfway toward her lips and her eyes glued to your Patronus, which seemed to flare up even more under her meticulous gaze. You stood in your bare declaration with disarming honesty, and didn’t retreat the feline before your legs as you went toward your family while a pair of blue eyes followed you in every step. Your parents congratulated you, oblivious about everything, watching your Patronus curiously. Your father asked what kind of animal was.

“A lynx.” Leliana and Maxwell said in unison before you could respond. A flash of understanding flashed in your brother eyes and he silently checked if you were alright with what just happened, glancing sideways at Leliana. You nodded with a reassuring smile. He smiled, although less convinced, but didn’t prompt a conversation in that crowded setting. 

The feast continued like nothing happened, and you cheered and laughed and clapped with enthusiasm while feeling the back of your head tingle for a stare you couldn’t yet meet. When the ceremony ended all kind of foods appeared on the tables, and everyone started to gather little bites to fill the short silence in the various conversations. You stayed behind with a glass in hand and a churned stomach, watching your family chatting with Dorian’s around a bottle of elven wine.

The smell of lilies reached your nose before anything else as a body gazed your side.

“Would you accompany me to the restroom?” Leliana asked quietly, a gentle whisper in your ear that almost made you shiver in its softness. 

“Don’t you remember where it is?” You said sarcastically, looking at anything but her while swirling your empty glass in a restless gesture. The weight of your action settled in at full force and your stomach did an unpleasant turn as a sick nervousness took over you.

“I have a really bad memory.” She responded, stopping your glass with her hand. You peered at her fingers, slender and callous from hours passed with a wand between them, and slowly looked up - at her pale arm dotted with little moles, her freckled shoulder, her slim neck - meeting then her gaze. A pair of blue eyes stared at you with a coldness that seemed to blaze in fervent, cyan flames as she posed your glass and made her way toward the exit.

Slytherins always preserved themselves, they said. You seemed to forget the notion that night when you followed her, watching how the silver of her dress swayed on her hips with every step. You stayed behind until a familiar alcove came to the view in the bright sky. The sun already set and left its place for the incoming moon and stars. It was fitting, almost poetic, to end your friendship where it begun as the daylight ceased. 

“I have always wondered what your Patronus looked like.” She said, and searched your fleeting gaze while leaning on a wall.

“You never brought it up. I didn’t either.” You responded, still as a column, watching the summer sky outside the castle. She moved with slow steps, like a weary animal hunting for the perfect prey, and placed herself in front of your view, daring you to look at her from your distance.

“Since when it became like mine?” She asked as the brightest stars started to come up behind her.

You stared at the dazing locks that held so much light, at the sharp eyes that softened when a fond moment was remembered, at the long nose that scrunched up in every heartfelt laugh, at the entire girl, woman, confidant,  friend  that captured your thoughts ever since you were eleven years old.

“It has always been like yours.” You replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Without announcement, an unknown weight lifted off your chest a breath later, leaving behind an empty space you didn’t expect. It was new, and scary, but welcomed to replace that much bigger secret you held precariously for the most part of your life.

She stilled for a moment, taken aback by your direct words so openly declared in that warm space. It brought you comfort to see how your feelings reached her, to know that you weren’t scraping your nails on an empty barrel but that there was something for you to poke in her, even if it was just friendship. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She looked at you with furrowed brows, her mouth set in a straight line and her fingers tickling the stone behind her to fill the interminable silences that accompanied your conversation.

“I never wanted you to see me just for that.” You told her while shrugging your shoulders, crossing your arms in a guarding gesture even if you knew how defenseless you were. 

“It wouldn’t have change a thing beside your thoughts of me.” You said with poorly hidden longing while a bitter feeling creeped in your chest. It was strange, how something supposedly joyful like a Patronus could be just as painful, a sweet reminder for your sour heart. 

“Evelyn, we should talk about this.” She started to take a careful step in your direction. You retreated by one in the same instant and shook your head slowly.

“No, we really shouldn’t.” You whispered, stretching the time to avoid that crashing confrontation.

“You are in love with me.” She declared calmly without questions, looking at you with piercing eyes. You didn’t flinch at her bluntness, and neither did she as she held your stare while a millions of seconds seemed to pass.

“I am at peace with the fact that you don’t feel the same way since the first time I saw you.” You responded at last.

The air grew colder for a moment as a soft wind blew, the scent of lilies stroking you like a comforting caress even in that situation. You expected a pitying gaze or something just as degrading from her, so you straitened your spine for the incoming blow to guard your pride at your the best. She sighed instead, catching you off guard, and briefly looked away as if she was gathering a thought, her fingers twitching for a second on her forearms.

“When I was in my last year Slughorn made us brew a batch of Amortentia, like with all the others N.E.T.W.s students. I finished it before anyone else because I didn’t want to smell Majorlaine’s perfume all around me.” She told you with a soft frown on the face as she reminisced the memory. “It wasn’t hers that I smelled though.”

She closed her eyes for a second as she relaxed and you watched confused as a placid breath left her lips.

“There was dried ink, soft leather and the barest hint of oak.” She said quietly and opened her sparking blue eyes toward your grey ones. “I was confused to say the least, but then I saw  you  on the Quidditch pitch after that class and recognized that smell immediately.”

Those words were spoken with so much frailness, coming out on their own accord with every slow, calculated exhalation as she looked almost remorseful to say them there. But the confession was dizzying, making your head spin in the pleasantest of ways with the curse of undying affection, and your mind stopped, somehow  cleared at once as every doubt and word dissipated with unplanned simplicity.

“Why didn’t you say something?” You asked as your arms dropped their hold in shock, feeling every pulse flow in each vein of your body. 

“I was scared and definitely not ready to feel such  things again.” She responded, taking a step back and slacking against the windowsill in an ungraceful manner, a long sigh moving her chest.

“I still don’t know if I am ready. I am afraid.” She admitted as you watched her closely.

“Of me?” You asked.

She shook her head. “Of us. Of what we could become and how it could all end.” 

There was a long pause then where the both of you tried to meet the other’s stare but somehow couldn’t. She was hesitant, ready to bolt as if she was in a dangerous situation, and you were still floating in the possibility of something that could really exist, and terribly feared the fall.

“What I’m terrified of is that one day you’ll vanish without a word again.” You said cooly, breaking the unmoving air between you two. She turned her guilty eyes toward you with a phrase on her lips, but you didn’t let her even begin. 

“But our lives aren’t already written, Leliana. We could change and grow apart, or maybe not, I wish I could know.” You took a step toward her, staring at her and her alone as if she was the only person in the world. You watched as she carefully looked at you with a troubled expression on her face, her spinning thoughts showing bright as day for once.

“What I know is that we can both grow and learn to overcome our fears.”

You stopped before her. Your hand came up, fingers extended and still like a tree solid branches. “For as long as we want and as whatever we want to be. Like friends or... something more.” 

She analyzed your face, your eyes, your entire self as if searching for a well hidden lie. The blue of her gaze hardened and softened time after time, pining you down with a million of unspoken questions. You soothed her worries with all the honesty you possessed, showing in every gesture, stare, breath your unconditional fondness. 

“But together, with all the trust we have.” You finished your speech, and waited, and didn’t push for anything else. She stared at you and you never faltered, never moved. The stars seemed to cherish with light at the smile that graced her lips after those interminable moments. The worry in her eyes dissipated as her dimples showed, and her hand grabbed yours in a delicate yet strong hold.

“I guess we’ll see, won’t we?” She said in a teasing way, an heartwarming gentleness coming out  _for you _ that filled your heart even more. You smiled, and tightened your hand around that promise.

There was still a lot you didn’t know about the future, but you were certain that you wanted her in it, no matter what. 

And it was enough. 


End file.
